Tinman Goodbye

August 25th
Today is Andrew’s last first-day-of-school. He starts 12th grade. He’s a senior. He begins what is essentially the end of a long road. I was there for the first first-day-of-school. And I was there – today – for this last one.

Oh, sure. There will another first-day-of-school for him next year. With any luck, he will be in college.

But it won’t be the same for me.

I won’t be there. I won’t be there to roust him out of bed at exactly 6:42 AM. I won’t be there to get him breakfast or argue about why he’s not eating it. I won’t be there to remind him to bring his stuffed tiger, his Ninja Turtle lunchbox, his crayons, his clarinet, his gym clothes, his calculator, his cell phone, or his car keys.

I won’t be there.

There’s a scene in The Wizard of Oz when it’s time for Dorothy to leave Oz and go back to Kansas. I still get a lump in my throat when she says goodbye to her three friends. I always thought her farewell to the Scarecrow was the saddest. After all, Dorothy helped him find his brain.

But I was wrong. The saddest farewell is when Dorothy says goodbye to the Tinman. “Now I know I have a heart,” he says. “Because I can feel it breaking.”

The Tinman cries - risking certain rust - because someone he loves very much is about to leave.

The Tinman cries all the more - risking public embarassment - knowing he must stay behind. So it is with children. And so it is with parents.

A part of the Tinman always understood that Dorothy must leave Oz. She didn’t belong there. But another part of him doesn’t understand how anyone could ever leave Oz. Oz is beautiful! Why would anyone want to leave Oz?

Oz is beautiful... But it can never be like Kansas.

No, Oz can never be like Kansas.

Wherever Kansas turns out to be.
K-